I was running at the gym this past weekend, and thinking about how much it sucked to be at the gym. Especially the weekend right after Thanksgiving, where I had just spent the three prior nights eating large amounts of savory and indulgent food. Running on a treadmill and then hitting the weights was about the last thing I really wanted to do, when I could be trying to sleep more, loaf more, or ostensibly be eating more savory and indulgent leftovers.
But it wasn’t a really a question to why I was at the gym, because it’s simply what I do. I exercise regularly, and I have been exercising regularly for quite literally ten years now. Giving that fact some additional thought, I can say that the longest gap I’ve ever had between at least running, has been two weeks, and that was just a few weeks ago when I was on an extended vacation. Save for that instance, I’ve been running regularly for an entire decade, and been hitting weights slightly less regularly within that span.
Honestly? It sucks sometimes, too. There are plenty of times in which I really don’t want to go to the gym, or go running, or do pull-ups, squats or shrugs. But I do them anyways, because I’m OCD like that, and I don’t want to break my chain of regularly working out. And that if I completely stop working out, then I will without question, balloon up to 427 lbs., and be on my way towards ending up on My 600 lb. Life on TLC.